A Game of Hearts

by Joanna Barker

The crowd was thick, but I wasn’t searching for a bystander. I was searching for calculating brown eyes and a maddening smirk. I was searching for my real competition.

“There is something to be said for being selective,” I said pointedly. “I would rather have one true friend than a thousand false ones.” She smiled, unruffled. “You wound me. But at least I have my thousand false friends to help me recover.”

Usually after Marigold and I talked—or argued, as was more often the case—I could declare one of us the winner. This time, I was not so certain.